One Samhain Night in the Room of Requirement
by comicnut
Summary: The room of requirement is soooo much more than a magic room that can become a training room or a storage room or a loo. It can become a doorway fulfilling hopes, dreams and salvation.
1. Chapter 01

Summary: The room of requirement is soooo much more than a magic room that can become a training room or a storage room or a loo. It can become a doorway fulfilling hopes, dreams and salvation.

Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix, Chapter 18

_"…it is a room that a person can only enter,' said Dobby seriously, 'when they have real need of it. Sometimes it is there, and sometimes it is not, but when it appears, it is always equipped for the seeker's needs._

Chapter 1

Thursday,

October 31st, 1995

11:55 PM

Harry Potter hurried along the 7th floor corridor towards the Room of Requirement, whilst keeping a wary eye on the aged piece of parchment in his hand. Reaching the stretch of blank wall opposite Barnabas the Barmy's tapestry, he gave the map in his hand a last glance. Seeing no one was near, he relaxed. Filch and Mrs. Norris were moving along the third floor corridor and Snape was stalking along the Great Hall heading towards the dungeons. He carefully cleared the map and folded it, placing it into a pocket in his robes beside his father's cloak.

Standing in thought, he reflected on what had brought him here so late at night and what he wanted to do. It had been just over three weeks now since Dobby had told him about the Room of requirement. Three weeks since the first DA meeting. Three weeks since Hermione had nominated _him_ to be the leader of the defense of the Dark Arts study group. Three weeks since everyone started looking to _him_ to teach them how to protect themselves.

It was something that filled him with pride and awe that his fellow students would trust him with this and yet at the same time filled him with apprehension that he was not up to it… and fear that he would fail. Because he himself was just a fifth year student. Because he didn't know how to teach. Because he didn't know how to lead. And that people would die because of_ him. _

_Just like Cedric._

It was a miasma of worry and fear that had clouded his thoughts for weeks. Harry had been trying to keep it to himself. Just like his detentions with the toad. He couldn't let them see how it affected him. If he did … well, he was sure that he _would_ fail. And everything would fall apart. But then, just an hour ago while getting ready for bed, he had had an idea. Or rather he had remembered something Dobby had said.

_"…it is a room that a person can only enter,' said Dobby seriously, 'when they have real need of it. Sometimes it is there, and sometimes it is not, but when it appears, it is always equipped for the seeker's needs._

And _that_ gave him an idea. If he could phrase his need in the right way, maybe the room could help him to learn how to teach his friends and fellow students better, how to be the leader they needed. How to save their lives.

He paced back and forth along the corridor, his mind racing with dozens of thoughts, plans and hopes, unable to settle on any one thing. Yet throughout them there was a common theme of "I need something, someone to teach _me_ how to teach _them_, how to lead them, how to _save_ them."

Harry did not realize it, but something wondrous was about to happen, something _truly_ magical. Something far beyond the bounds of what ordinary witches and wizards called _magick. _For that night was the night of Samhain. The night of Beltane. The night, legends say, when the door to the otherworld opened. And the souls of the dead might walk the earth once more. And fairies and spirits and demons and other magical beings worked vengeance and mischief and wonders upon the ordinary world.

To invoke a great work of magick such as the Room of Requirement in a castle renowned as a great reservoir of magical power … to invoke a room where thoughts are made reality … to invoke a plea for help … and a unfocused plea at that … on such a night when the barriers twixt worlds become thin … at the height of the witching hour … is to court the notice of _Gods_.

Harry didn't notice when the door appeared, but when he did, he stopped and stared at it in hope and trepidation. He slowly reached out his hand and opened the door and walked in.

He found himself in a homey room that reminded him in many ways of the Burrow. A cheery fire burned in a large fireplace at the side of the room. The lighting was rather dim with only one or two lights burning in the corners. Simple but well made furniture filled the room and pictures, too far away to make out the contents clearly, adorned the walls.

Harry looked around in puzzlement, trying to figure out how this room was going to help him. He started walking towards the pictures on the walls. If they were magical, maybe they could tell him what he needed to know.

Then he heard a moan. And a giggle.

_What?_

The sounds came from the other side of a wide comfy looking sofa where he couldn't see. Harry took a step forward and saw them. A couple, sitting on a thick furry rug, snogging in front of the fire. A man with longish, black messy hair. With round glasses. Who looked so much like the image he saw in the mirror that he could be his…

His gaze snapped to the woman, but her back was turned to him. All he could see was red hair.

_Red hair._

Harry stared in shock, his thoughts whirling frantically and bouncing everywhere in the confines of his skull.

"Mum? Dad?" he half whispered, half croaked in a voice filled with longing and hope.

He only vaguely registered it when the man whirled away from the woman, drew a wand and shouted "Stupefy!"

Everything went black!


	2. Chapter 02

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and the Harry Potter universe. I'm just playing with it.

Chapter 2

The next thing Harry knew, he was floating on a cloud. Or at least, that's how it felt. It was kind of hard to think though, so he couldn't be sure.

"Who are you? What's your name?" a loud voice thundered.

"Harry Potter," he replied.

"That's impossible," said another voice. A female voice, Harry's mind dimly registered.

"Shhhh," replied the loud male voice in a whisper.

"How did you get thru the wards?" demanded the loud voice.

"There were no wards," Harry said.

There was whispering. Harry began to feel uncomfortable about the situation, almost alarm. There was something familiar about this floating feeling. Something bad.

"Who sent you here?"

"No one sent me here," responded Harry.

More whispering.

"Tell me what you remember of the last ten minutes!" demanded the female voice.

"I was at Hogwarts. I was walking on the 7th floor. I was heading to the Room of …"

_No!_ an inner voice said. The uncomfortable feeling grew stronger. _The room's a secret. Don't tell anyone about it._

"The room of what?" the female voice demanded. "What did you want there?"

Harry focused on the second question.

"I needed to find some help."

"Help to do what?"

"To learn DADA. To learn to teach DADA. To learn to be a leader. To save …" Harry suddenly remembered. _The Imperius! _yelled that inner voice._ You're under a spell! Don't answer!_

"To save who?" asks the male voice.

Harry clenched his jaw and struggled not to answer.

"WHO?"

Harry just couldn't stop the words. They slipped out through his clenched teeth.

"Every … one!"

And with that, Harry felt his mind fully clear. The spell was broken. His will was his own.

Looking down he realized that he was sitting in a chair and bound to it with ropes. The man who looked so much like his father was standing in front of him, wand drawn and aimed at his chest. He sensed … felt someone behind him. Probably the woman he realized.

The man must have realized that Harry had broken the spell because he gave out a humph sound of frustration. "Well, this is a pretty puzzle. You break into my home, scare the wits out of my wife and me, wearing a face you have no right to and then somehow lie under veritaserum about who you are and what you're doing here!"

Harry scowled with anger. "I'm no liar. My name _is_ Harry Potter and this _is_ my face. _MY_ face. I don't how I got here, but I certainly didn't break through wards doing it. The last thing I remember is…" Harry stopped short not just because he didn't want to mention the Room of Requirement, but because the man's own face was darkening in anger too. A face eerily like his own.

"That's another lie! You are _not_ Harry Potter!"

"And how would you know that?"

"Because _I_ am Harry Potter!"

Harry stared wide-eyed at the man in mouth gaping astonishment. And then his anger returning he yelled, "Now who's the liar. _YOU_, that's who!"

"No, he's not," came a voice from behind Harry.

Harry startled, having momentarily forgotten that someone was behind him. And then that someone stepped around him to finally stop beside the man with his face.

"And I ought to know, he is my husband after all." The woman said with a scowl.

Harry's mouth opened wide in astonishment. He knew that scowl. He'd seen it any number of times over the last few years. Usually aimed at one of her brothers or some other malefactor like Malfoy. It was a scowl that promised that a painful hex was coming. One filled with bat-bogey's.

"Ginny?"


	3. Chapter 03

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and the Harry Potter universe. I'm just playing with it.

"Ginny?"

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. It was Ginny! But … but … she was …

"How did you get so old?"

The moment the words left his mouth, Harry knew he was in trouble. B-I-I-I-I-I-I-G-G trouble. The woman's face was turning red. Weasley red. An incandescent Weasley red.

His face went completely pale and his stomach turned to liquid, dropped down into his shoes and leaked out through the holes in his trainers. Harry just wished that he could follow it. He knew what was coming.

Sheer panic took over and the words spilled out fast and furious, "It'sjustthatanhouragoyouwerefou rteenandnowyou'reanadultwitchandI'msorryIsaidthat,pleasedon'tbatbogeyme!"

The man with Harry's face stifled a snort of laughter. Immediately thereafter, the man's own face paled as he realized what he'd done, as the witch turned her gaze on _him_.

"So you think that's funny, do you Harry?" the witch asked with syrupy sweetness.

"Absolutely not," the man stammered out. "It was extremely rude. He should mind his manners." The man turned then and scowled darkly at the teen, obviously blaming Harry and also obviously trying to divert the witch's anger back to the boy.

"Right," she said sarcastically and turned her gaze back onto Harry.

For some reason, an image of the Basilisk from second year popped into Harry's head. Harry ruthlessly skewered it and hid the body, hoping with everything that the woman couldn't see into his head.

"So," she continued, "Did you find anything on him to explain all this?"

"Ahh … oops?" the man replied.

"Oops?" she queried with another scowl.

"I was … ah … distracted." He muttered. "I had to find the veritaserum. I just haven't done it yet."

"Men." She muttered. She stepped forward and started patting Harry's robes and searching for pockets.

Very quickly she found his wand and pulled it out. Glancing at it, her eyes widened in stunned disbelief.

"Harry …"

"Yes?"

"Harry … his wand …"

"What about it?"

"Look at it," she said, quickly passing it over to him.

The man's own eyes widened. He stared at Harry, then at the woman, down at the wand and then back at Harry. "Bloody Hell."

He grabbed at a wand holster on his arm and pulled out his own wand. Holding one in each hand, he compared them closely.

They were identical.


	4. Chapter 04

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and the Harry Potter universe. I'm just playing with it.

"They're the same." He said.

"You mean it just looks like yours," she said. But you could hear the doubt in her voice.

"They're the same." He repeated. "The magic. It feels the same."

He fired a series of spells across the room, alternating with the wand in each hand. Accio's, transfigurations, lumos, nox, levitations. Each spell came as easily as if they were cast with the same wand. As if they _were_ the same wand.

"Bloody Hell," he said again.

The woman looked at Harry with a gaze that demanded answers, though it now had a good dollop of doubt, anger and just a bit of fear. Harry wished that he could give her those answers, but Harry had none to give. He was just as clueless as her.

Her gaze drifted down onto his robes. Looking down, he saw with dismay that it was focused on a bulge underneath some of the coils of rope binding him. He nearly groaned in dismay. His map. And the cloak.

She leaped to his side, shifted the rope over and dug into the pocket, quickly drawing them out.

It was another "Bloody Hell," moment, this time coming from her.

The man took one look at the cloak and dived towards a cloak cabinet against the wall. He pulled out an auror's cloak and dug into it frantically, finally drawing out …

… drawing out _another_ cloak.

Harry added his own "Bloody Hell."

Just to make it unanimous.

"This is getting really, really creepy," said the man.

At that point, Harry couldn't agree more.

The woman looked down at the folded parchment in her hand and opened it.

Somehow, Harry wasn't surprised when she pulled her own wand and started to speak a password phrase that he knew by heart. "I solemnly swear that …" Harry braced himself. "… I am up to no good."

_Wait. What?_

Suddenly, it felt like the runaway hippogriff he'd been tied to had made a hard 90 degree left turn.

That wasn't the password.


	5. Chapter 05

Chapter 5

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and the Harry Potter universe. I'm just playing with it.

The woman stared suspiciously down at the parchment in her hand. Literally glaring at it when it failed to respond to her pass phrase. She started it again, "I solemnly swear …"

Harry had had enough. He wanted answers himself. And he suddenly realized that the only way to get them would be to give some of his own. "That's wrong," he said.

"What?" the woman demanded.

"The pass phrase. It's 'I solemnly swear that I am …" he paused to swallow causing her to glare at him. "… a prankster born."

She stared at him in disbelief. The man suddenly appeared beside her. He held the wand in his right hand to the parchment and repeated Harry's pass phrase and, incidentally, repeating Harry's own pause at the different words.

Instantly, thin ink lines appeared on the parchment, spreading out like a spider's web, joining, crisscrossing and fanning out to every corner of the parchment. Words blossomed across the top in large curly blue letters, proclaiming:

Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mayhem-Makers are proud to present THE MARAUDER'S MAP

As the map detailing the castle Harry knew so well and loved, finished filling in, he realized that the man was glaring fiercely at the MAP. "It's wrong." He said hotly. "What did you do to it?"

"Nothing," Harry replied. "It's the same as it's always been."

"It's wrong," the man insisted, pointing to the top. "The colors wrong, the words should be green. And that word should be mischief, not mayhem. How did you change it?"

"I didn't," Harry replied back just as hotly. "It's always been that way."

The man jabbed his wand at the map causing it to expand and shift showing other sections of the castle. Harry noticed it showing Filch and Mrs. Norris moving down a corridor by the great Hall. The man must have noticed it too, because he froze.

"That's not … that can't be right," he croaked.

"What?" demanded the woman with Ginny's face.

In answer, he pointed to the dots labeled Filch and Mrs. Norris.

The woman paled. "But he … he … died … five years ago."

The man suddenly jabbed his wand at Gryffindor tower, frantically searching through the map. "The children," he muttered, "where are the children?"

Abruptly stopping, he whispered, "Ginny."

"What?" the woman demanded.

The man pointed to a dot in the 4th year girl's dorm. A dot clearly labeled Ginny Weasley.

He continued his frantic searching. Harry saw names pop up and then disappear as he repeatedly jabbed his wand around the map: Fred, Neville, Colin Creevey, Snape, Dumbledore, and Crabbe to name few. Finally the man just stopped, frozenly staring at the map.

The man shuddered, dropping the map to the floor. He gazed sightlessly for a moment into the distance and then turned away to march toward a drinks cabinet. He pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey and a whiskey glass. He stared at the bottle and glass a moment, then shrugged, popped the cap off the bottle with his thumb and simply upended the bottle into his mouth. Harry could hear a glug glug sound as the man swallowed an unhealthy amount of whiskey.

This seemed to shock the woman, who had been in a daze of her own at the names appearing on the map. She screamed out "HARRY!" at the man.

The man visibly flinched and stopped chugging the firewhiskey, spilling some down his shirt. Then looking at the bottle and glass again, he poured a large amount into the glass and handed it to the woman.

The woman glared at him for a moment, but then taking the glass, she turned away and walked towards the pictures on the wall. A moment later Harry heard the sounds of soft weeping coming from her direction.

The man turned towards him. Speaking in a low flat tone he stated, "You are going to tell me where you came from. You are going to tell me how you got here. You will not leave anything out. Is … that … clear?"

His eyes were hard, demanding, unyielding.

Harry nodded numbly and started talking.


	6. Chapter 06

Chapter 6

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and the Harry Potter universe. I'm just playing with it.

"I don't know how I got here, like I said," Harry began. "Last I remember I was at Hogwart's. I was on my way to a training room we found. Next thing I know I'm here. Stupefied. And tied up." This last, Harry said with a mild glare. His shock over the events of the last few minutes was beginning to fade and he was beginning to get angry again at the whole ridiculous situation. "Are these ropes really necessary?"

The man looked at him for a moment, clearly searching his face for a clue to Harry's intentions. He then nodded and said, "Alright." He waved a wand and cancelled the incarcerous spell. Harry couldn't see which wand he used. The man's or … his.

"A training room. Where is this training room?"

"On the seventh floor."

"The Room of Requirement?"

Harry felt no shock at the man's words. Of course the man would know of the Room. This bloody mystery kept getting stranger and stranger. He was about ready to run screaming into the night, if only to escape from the whole thing.

"Yes."

"What were you going to do there?" the man asked intently.

"Well, I remembered something that Dobby told me a few weeks ago. That when the Room appears, it is always equipped for the seeker's needs. I had an idea of how the Room could help me with a problem. My friends and I had formed a DADA study group…"

"The Defense Association. Dumbledore's Army."

"… um, yeah…" Harry simply gave up trying to hide anything from this man. He was worse than Dumbledore. "… because the DADA professor is terrible. We're just reading from the book and it's really useless. No practical work, no spells and it's our OWL … year." Harry's words trailed off at the look of anger, disgust and sheer loathing that passed across the older man's face.

"Umbitch."

"Huh?"

"Dolores Umbridge. Your DADA Professor."

"What? No! My professor is Dawlish. John Dawlish." Harry followed this with a look of loathing of his own. "He's supposed to be this highly respected Auror, but you couldn't prove it by me. And he's certainly no teacher. I can't believe they made him a High…" Harry's words trailed off to a whisper when he saw the look of disbelief on the older man's face. Unknowingly misinterpreting it, he went on.

"Anyway… my friends elected me the leader of the DA, the teacher. But that's been really bothering me, because I have idea of how to do that. Be a leader. Everyone's counting on me and I can't get it out of my mind that I'm going to fail them. And then I had the idea that maybe the Room of Requirement could give me something to show me. How to be a teacher and a leader. So I went to the Room. But … the next thing I know I'm here." This last was said with a note of both puzzlement and petulance.

A look of first startlement, then astonishment and finally chagrin appeared on the older Harry's face. As if the idea of doing such a thing was totally dumbfounding. Harry felt a momentary sense of satisfaction at having done something that the older man didn't seem to have thought of.

And then the feeling passed, when his stomach growled.

Really loudly.

Harry's face turned red in momentary embarrassment as the older man smirked.

"How long since you've eaten?" he asked.

"Well, it's been five or six hours since the Halloween Feast. And I didn't eat that much, since this problem's been bothering me."

"Well, I think we can find something to fill you up." The man turned right and headed towards a doorway that likely lead to a kitchen.

He stopped abruptly.

"Halloween." He muttered.

"Samhain." He said in a tone of wonder.


	7. Chapter 07

Chapter 7

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and the Harry Potter universe. I'm just playing with it.

Harry watched as the older man abruptly made a left hand turn and headed towards another doorway, calling out, "Ginny, can you get our … guest … some food?" As the door was left open, Harry could see him frantically searching through a desk for something.

The older Ginny gave out an exasperated huff, muttering something too low for Harry to hear. Drawing her wand, she summoned various sandwich fixings from the kitchen and let Harry help myself to them, while keeping an eye on him.

The man returned holding a rather thick collection of parchments, which he proceeded to page through. And page through. And page through.

After five minutes and one satisfying sandwich, Ginny demanded, "Harry, what are you looking at?"

"Hermione's Mastery project."

Harry was somehow unsurprised at that. That they would have an older Hermione too. That she would go for a Mastery. That her research paper would be very … _thick_.

"Which one?"

"History of Magic."

"Which one?" Harry echoed. "How many does she have?"

Ginny had a look of fond exasperation on her face. "Three. In Transfigurations, Charms and History of Magic."

Harry goggled at that. He wasn't sure that even Dumbledore had that many. But a moment later, he remembered her third year's rather … _packed_ … class schedule and wryly wondered why he was surprised.

"It would have been four," the older Harry muttered to himself, "with a Mastery in DADA but the Department of Mysteries confiscated her research project and drafted her as an Unspeakable."

"WHAT?" shrieked Ginny.

The older Harry cringed. "I should not have said that. Should NOT have said that."

"Explain!" Ginny demanded with narrowed eyes. "I thought she worked for the International Magical Office of Law."

"She does, but…" the man sighed. "Certain things she discovered when researching for her History Mastery lead her to another project that would have earned her a DADA Mastery too. But when the Unspeakables discovered what she was researching, they classified it as too dangerous to publish." Then he smirked, "Then they decided that she was too smart for her own good. They pressured her to join the Unspeakables so that they could control her. It didn't work too well. She joined, learned her way around, found where all the bodies were buried and then used that to free herself from their '_control'_ and make a place for herself in the Law Office." He smirked viciously. "They're quite wary of her now."

"Hah. Good for her!" Ginny said with satisfaction. "But what does that have to do with him?" she said pointing to Harry.

"This," the older Harry said, shaking the paper, "is about Samhain. Also known as Beltane."

"Soooo?" Ginny challenged. Harry nearly echoed her, but bit his tongue. He so did not want to raise this woman's ire.

"So, the Samhain may very well be how the Founders created the Room of Requirement. And it may be how he," old Harry levitated his finger to point directly at Harry, "got here!"

Ginny's eyes narrowed, "Explain!"

"Hermione was researching the origins of the Room of Requirement. Hoping to discover the spells that created it and so on. She was never able to gather enough details for a transfiguration or charms paper, but found enough vague references in a lot of dusty old books to the Samhain and Druidic priests that she could build a case that the Founders used a ritual combined with the Samhain to create the Room. It may even be responsible for a lot of the Magic of Hogwarts."

"Samhain is, basically, an ancient druidic festival, usually held around October 31st to November 1st. It marked the halfway point between the autumn equinox and the winter solstice. Cattle were brought down from summer pasture, livestock were slaughtered for the winter, and Celtic clans gathered to meet for various purification rituals and religious ceremonies. In Ireland, it was even associated with a god called, Crom Cruach. But more importantly," old Harry looked down and read, "…_it was also known as a night when the door to the otherworld opened enough for the souls of the dead and other beings to come into our world._"

"Hermione found a lot of references and descriptions of things exactly like that. Reports of the dead visiting relatives and old friends. There's a report in here of a woman who, supposedly murdered her husband. And he came back a few days later on Samhain for revenge. There are also accounts of people getting lost in Faery mounds, returning years later, but still young."

"Hermione speculated that, the Samhain was a night where extraordinary powers could be called forth by Druidic rituals. Power to build, power to come back from the dead, power to even travel to unseen realms."

Old Harry turned and looked at Harry. "Our young friend here, went to the Room of Requirement on the Samhain. A room that may well have been created on the Samhain, maybe even drew its power from the Samhain. He called on the Room for help and guidance, on a night when the power of the Room may well have been at its strongest. A night when the door between worlds could open."

Harry's mouth went dry, his eyes wide in shock.

"He's not from _this_ world. He's from another world. An alternate reality."

"He's _another_ Harry Potter."


	8. Chapter 08

Chapter 8

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and the Harry Potter universe. I'm just playing with it.

Harry stared at the older man in amazement. _Another_ Harry Potter?

This couldn't be true.

Could it?

He examined the man's face, his eyes, even his hair, looking for … something … he wasn't sure what. Truth? Deception?

He found … Understanding. Concern. Friendliness. Sympathy. Even … Family.

It sent an unexpected feeling of warmth through him.

And then it hit him. His eyes opened wide.

_Wait. An older Harry Potter. With an older Ginny. And they're married. What about Voldemort?_

"Do you … do you have a Voldemort too?" he asked apprehensively, fearing that he might still be a threat here.

The older man nodded. "We did. Defeated and dead over twenty years ago. In my seventh year."

Harry's heart leapt into his throat. Excitedly he asked, "Can you tell me how you did it? Maybe we can do the same thing in my world."

The older Harry pulled over a chair and sat in it, a sad and weary look on his face. "It's a long story. One filled with mistakes, disappointments, terror and anger. And deaths. A great many deaths." His eyes took on the unfocused look of someone lost in memories. Painful memories. Abruptly, he shook that look off of his face and focused again on Harry.

"I do not know if you can repeat what we did. So many times we succeeded or even just survived through sheer _luck_. And there's no way to tell how much is the same in your world. Even one thing different could mean the difference between life and death.

"On the other hand, the Room of Requirement brought you _here_. Out of all the millions upon millions of worlds that are supposed to be out there, and everyone of them different, it brought you _here_. Maybe …

"Maybe it brought you here, because our worlds are close enough to being the same that my story can help you end the war much sooner. And _that's_ the major difference between our worlds. That you had a brilliant idea that I didn't and used the Room in a way I didn't.

"But in either case, you will have to be really careful, and check things out beforehand.

The man waved his wand at their chairs and transfigured them into much more comfortable chairs. "So, time to sit back, get comfortable and listen. It's a long story but I'll try to summarize as much as possible. Some of it you likely already know, but hearing it again may help you to see any differences.

"At the end of fourth year, Voldemort had just regained a body after getting me entered into the …"

AN: This is not a reading the books story. After you've read one, you've pretty much read them all. So I am skipping over the relating what's happened bits.

"… then I put the Elder Wand back where it came from, into Dumbledore's grave. Where I hope it stays forever. And I truly hope that when I die, its power is broken. And no more will die because of that wand."

Harry slumped in his chair, eyes downcast and his emotions awhirl with confusion, sadness, anger and hurt. So many deaths, so many lies and half truths. So many betrayals and disappointments.

And yet, there were heroes there too. Unbelievable acts of kindness and bravery. Of redemption. Even of love.

Harry looked up at the older man sitting across from him. Respect and admiration for what the man had achieved and survived filled him.

The man must have seen it in Harry's eye's for he sat up straighter and irately said, "Don't go getting it into your head that I'm some hero here. I get enough of that from others. I did what I had to do to survive. And if you've done what I've had to in my early years, you know that very well. Do Quirrell, the basilisk and the dementors ring any bells? The Tri-Wizard Tournament?"

Harry blushed. The older man was right. He hated it when others looked at him like he was something special. He just wanted to be accepted. Normal. Still, it was hard not to feel respect for the man, hearing all that he had gone through. He deserved it. And maybe that was a lesson for him to take away from it all. He had done similar things as this man. Maybe he deserved some respect too.

Abruptly the older man stood up. Looking up at his face, Harry could see a look of indecision on it. The man turned and walked to the office, pulled a book from the shelves behind the desk and returned.

The look on his face, turned apprehensive for a moment, but then turned into determination. Abruptly, he shoved the book at Harry and briskly said, "See if you can open that."

Harry turned it around, noting that it was a plain leather covered book, with no title showing. He opened it easily, only to find pages of familiar handwriting—his own. He raised his eyes to meet the older man's.

The man looked down and spoke as if to himself, "After the war, we all tried to get on with our lives. But it's not something that you can shrug off and forget. There were too many death's, too much pain. I had nightmares for months afterwards. We all did. Hermione said we were suffering from PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. She thought that we should see healers or maybe psychiatrists to help us deal with it. She even admitted that she had seen one, a muggle whose son was a muggle-born.

"Hermione said I needed it most of all. To deal with the deaths. All the responsibility forced upon me. The Dursley's. Everything.

"But that's just not something I can do. Talk about it. Tell some stranger about the abuse and neglect. Tell them about the guilt of Sirius' death. Remus' and Tonk's. Cedric's. Fred's. The responsibility of having to be the one to kill Voldemort. I just couldn't. So I brooded. And had nightmares.

"But then one day, Hermione brought me a journal. Told me to write in it. Write down my experiences. My feelings. Make sense of them. It will do me good, she said.

"The idea of it gave me the shudders. It reminded me too much of Tom's Diary. I tossed it into a corner and forgot about it. Then one night I had a particularly bad nightmare. And for some reason that I can't explain, I pulled it out and started writing in it. And then I couldn't stop. I wrote everything down. And it truly did help. The nightmares didn't come as often.

"Life went on. I became an auror. I learned how to deal with thieves and murderers and wanna be dark lords. Learned how to navigate in magical society. How things work and how they're supposed to work. Laws and regulations. Quite often, though, I'd learn something that would make me think, 'If only I knew then what I knew now. I could have done so much better.'

"My friends tell me that I have a tendency to brood. I have to admit it's true. I brooded over those '_If I only knew's_' until I wrote them down and got them out of my system. They're all in that journal. Plans and ideas for how I wished I'd handled those terrible years. Updated and revised time and again. They're even charmed to organize everything.

_Plans for how to deal with Voldemort? How to save everyone?_ Harry looked down at the journal in his hands in astonishment. Exhilaration swelled in his chest

_Wait!_ He suddenly thought. It's his _personal_ journal. Harry choked out words of refusal, "But, this is your _personal_ journal. With all your thoughts and feelings. I can't read this. Nobody should. And it sounds as if you _need_ this journal."

"Harry, I would give _anything_ to be able to have saved Sirius. And Fred and Remus and Tonks and so many others. Giving you this journal? It makes me feel as if I'm doing that very thing. Save them Harry. Save them for me. Save them for yourself.

"As for my needing the journal? I needed it after the war ended. Badly. That need slowly diminished over time. I rarely even open it any more. I have so many things now to fill my life with joy and satisfaction. Ginny, my children, my friends, my work.

"And now that I think about it, I realize that it can also help you to deal with everything that's happened to you, by seeing how I dealt with it. Take it Harry. I _want_ you to have it."

Harry dearly wanted the journal. And then a thought occurred to him and he added, "I'm not even sure that I can take anything from this world back with me. Or if _I_ can even get back." The thought frightened him. Would he be trapped here in this world, while his world was forced to deal with Voldemort without him?

The older Harry paused a moment in consternation. But then his eyes lit up and he grinned. "Harry! Don't you remember the map? _Your_ map? It still shows your Hogwarts! As if you were still in the Room of Requirement! I think that you _can_ go home!"

"You … you mean we're not in your world? But the room—"

"Who knows, Harry? You might be in my world. I might be in yours. Or maybe somehow our worlds have … overlapped in some way. And the room just _looks_ like my home. I don't think we'll ever know.

"Maybe you can't take the book with you. But if your Room is like the one in my world, you might be able to call up this particular Room anytime you want with the journal a part of it. Ready to read when you need it."

Suddenly, the older man's eyes glowed with mischief. "But before you go back to your Hogwarts, I want to go over a few of the favorite plans and ideas I had for … _dealing_ with your dark wanker. He won't know what hit him."

Harry's face lit up in an anticipatory grin, his eyes shining with excitement.


End file.
